User blog comment:Brigadier Barty/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-26024035-20160423181424/@comment-3135907-20160426185237

The ship continued on its current course, not lining up to hove alongside the Wasp but charging directly at it amidships. The galley's long spiked nose and, above that, a strange masonwork block with a hole to the bow end with several giddy crewbeasts behind it, the nature of which Swisher could not ascertain, loomed massive and intimidating to the smaller, lighter vessel. The oars thrummed at breakneck speed, and for the first time in seasons Swisher felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle in genuine fear.

It was too late. The galley was going to ram them.